


Don't Judge a Derek By His Cover

by captaintinymite (augopher)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Artist Stiles Stilinski, Awkward Derek, Bad Boy Derek, Bad Puns, Coffee Shops, English project partners, Except Papa Hale, Feels, First Kiss, Frottage, M/M, Nerd Stiles, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Secret Bookworm Derek Hale, Tutor Derek, Writer Derek, both are 18, rumors are usually wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-09 02:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5522321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/captaintinymite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn't care about the rumors surrounding Beacon Hills High School's resident bad boy, Derek Hale. In fact, he thinks the rumors are total crap. Of course, being secretly in love with someone has a way of clouding one's judgment.</p><p>However, he knew for a fact that Derek liked books. So when the two paired up for a final English project, he was excited (but also a little terrified).</p><p>But you know what they say...<i>never</i> judge a book by its cover. The same goes for people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Judge a Derek By His Cover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheBeastsWrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBeastsWrite/gifts).



> For [thewolf-inred](http://thewolf-inred.tumblr.com/) in the Sterek Secret Santa over on Tumblr
> 
> Thanks to [ Alice](http://troubleiwant.tumblr.com/) for the beta work

“You’re doing it again,” Scott said between bites of pizza, not even bothering to look up from his meal.

Stiles groaned. “I’m aware, thank you.” Despite Scott’s words, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the perfect specimen of male beauty sitting three lunch tables away.

Scott clapped him on the back. “Anyway, I hear he doesn’t date like at all, only sleeps around, and never with the same person twice. So...what I am about to say, I say as your best friend and lifelong bro, who loves you...this is a hopeless endeavor and you’ll only end up getting your heart trampled on. My duty as said best bro, is to prevent that from happening.” He took a sip of soda. 

Frustrated, Stiles stabbed his fork into his salad. “Yeah, I know. It’s just,” he sighed, and it sounded more lovelorn than the one of disgruntlement he’d been aiming for, “I think there’s a lot more to him than meets the eye. You should hear him in AP Lit, the way he speaks about books. I know he has this ‘devil may care’ bad-boy thing going on, but underneath that, he’s got a really beautiful soul.”

Beside him, Scott made gagging noises. “Oh god! Abandon ship! You’ve fallen into a clichéd teen vampire movie!”

Stiles gave him a playful shove. “Shut up,” he said, though there was no heat behind it.

“Listen, nothing I say is going to convince your poor nerdy heart to give up on this so-”

“I’ll have you know, I am a geek, not a nerd. I am wildly passionate about certain pop-culture phenomena, get decent grades, and draw comics. I am  _ not _ , I repeat, not entirely without social skills. Ergo, I am a geek not a nerd.”

“I’m pretty sure using ergo in a sentence correctly negates everything you just said.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and continued attacking his lunch with gusto.

 

***

 

“That’s not what the book was about at all! Did you even read it?”

Stiles looked over two rows to his left to where Derek Hale, and the source of his pathetic pining, sat, impassioned and face flushed from anger. In his chest, he felt his heart do that ka-ka-thump stutter thing it did anytime he heard Derek debate the reading for class, anytime he told a bully to ‘beat it’, or anytime he looked at Derek to be honest. If someone had held a mirror in front of his face, Stiles was sure he’d look like positively ‘twitterpated’ as Friend Owl called it.

“Ok then, since you’re so smart, Mr. T-Bird Wannabe, what is it about if not the horrible conditions in the meat-packing industry and unsanitary food practices?” 

Stiles had never wanted to punch someone more in his life than Matt ‘Major Asshole’ Daehler. Okay, that was not entirely true, but even Jackoff Dickmore was better than Daehler. How dare he insult Derek!

“It’s about the exploitation of the American factory worker, and clearly in favor of converting _e_ _ veryone _  to Socialism.”

As Derek sat back in his chair with a huff, Stiles just wanted to wrap him up in a hug and pet his hair. It was probably as soft as rabbit’s fur. He propped his head up on his hand and stared, blatantly in Derek’s direction. He couldn’t help himself; he was in love. Okay? Yes, Scott, he said it-  _ In love _ , not some little crush. What he hoped would be only a moment of ogling, stretched on too long, and Stiles, caught with his hand in the cookie jar, flushed bright red across his cheeks, dipping his head in embarrassment. 

Why couldn’t he crush on attainable people? Not ones like Lydia Martin, genius Queen Bee, or Derek Hale who, at eighteen could already grow quite the impressive beard and rode to school on his motorcycle. Why? Because Stiles was a glutton for punishment. That’s why.

“For your final project this semester, you will pair off and select a work from this list and do a creative retelling of it. Equal work is required, and if I hear about anyone slacking off and letting their partner do all the work, you will fail for this semester. Any questions?” Mrs. Conroy was positively frightening for someone approaching seventy years old and who still looked like June Cleaver. 

_ Please don’t be Daehler. Please don’t be Daehler _ . He chanted in his head.

“Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to work with me?”

Stiles was snapped from his thoughts by the words of someone standing right next to his desk. He looked up, and his jaw fell open. He probably looked a bit like a trout or codfish...or largemouth bass. Yeah that was the one. “Uh...uh...who me?”

Derek shifted his weight from foot to foot. “You draw, right?”

Stiles shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t think I’m all that good, but yeah.”

“Do you have a partner?”

Stiles, his brain still off-line, could only shake his head.

“Are you free this evening? I work until seven but there is this great coffeeshop near the library, Sir Lancelatte’s. It’s pretty quiet that time of night.”

“Uh huh.” Uh huh? That’s it? That’s all he could say? Derek leaned down and scribbled something in the margins of Stiles’ notebook.

“I’ll see you a little after seven, but if you have to cancel, give me a call.”

The bell rang before Stiles could say a thing. He just sat there opening and closing his mouth over and over like a fish. It took about a minute for him to be able to move, and when he did, he dropped his head down to rap it against his desk.

“Utter failure, Stilinski. Total and utter failure,” he groaned.

 

***

 

Stiles looked around the cafe when he walked in the door. It was a little before seven, but if he didn’t purposely try to be early, then he’d end up super late. Story of his life. 

He’d walked past this shop at least fifty times and had never gone in, which was, now that he saw the interior, a travesty. On the walls, hung tapestries. There was a suit of armor just inside the entrance holding a sign telling patrons to seat themselves. Exposed wooden beams lined the ceiling. The back wall had a mural depicting the Knights of Camelot. Even the tables and chairs had old world charm. There were two fireplaces on opposite sides of the room, and the seating area around them could only be described as cozy. Bookcases held various volumes and a sign that read ‘ _Take a book; leave a book_.’

He walked up to the counter and ordered a small cafe au lait. Briefly, he wondered if he should order Derek something, but that would make this like a date and...nope. He was doing it. Stiles Stilinski was nothing if not impulsive.

“I’ll also have gingersnap latte.”

Once he had the two drinks in hand, he sought out what he determined to be the best table for work and sat down to wait. At five after seven, Derek came strolling through the door like a knight in black armor, and Stiles thought he was going to die from the way the soft lighting illuminated Derek’s face like an oil painting.

“Did you find the place okay?”

“Mmhm. It’s a pretty cool place. I’d never been in here before.”

Derek rubbed the back of his neck. “I, um...I come here a lot. It’s a nice place to read and escape my family. Sometimes I spend all Saturday in here writing.”

Oh, now that was just adorable, the way the faint pink hue spread up the back of Derek’s neck. “I got you something to drink. I hope you like it. I remembered that you’d said once in Mr. Allman’s class how you liked gingersnaps. So, I took a stab. I mean, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to dr-”

“Thank you,” Derek said, taking the cup from him, and was Stiles imagining it? Did Derek blush further when their fingers brushed together? 

“So, you seemed like you had an idea for the project. I’m assuming it has something to do with drawing, and that’s why you wanted to work with me.”

Derek mumbled something into his drink that Stiles did not catch. He thought about asking him to repeat himself, but figured that was the reason for mumbling in the first place. “I was thinking about a graphic novel, or well a short one, anyway.”

Stiles’ eyebrows rose in surprise. That had not been what he’d expected him to say at all.

“I mean, you say you’re not very good, but I see you drawing in class sometimes, and I think you’re wrong. That little picture of Daehler as a liar, liar, pants on fire was hilarious.”

“ _ That’s  _ why you started laughing that day?” Stiles squeaked. “I didn’t think anyone else saw that. Do you think Matt did?”

Derek shook his head. “Secret’s safe with me.”

“I think that is a really cool idea. What book did you have in mind?”

“What if instead of him succumbing to his ego and thirst for power, what if Dorian Gray became a vigilante, using his immortality to help the people of modern London? I could write it, and you could draw it. I guess you could help write if you wanted, but I can barely manage stick figures so I would be no help there.”

Stiles couldn’t help his excited smile. “That is a fantastic idea!” At his words, Derek’s face lit up, and much like he did in class when discussing a piece of literature he enjoyed, he began spouting ideas. Words flowed from him the way they never seemed to outside of English class, and while Stiles did crude sketches to make some semblance of a storyboard, he found himself falling a little bit more for Derek.

He learned that they shared a love of superheroes. Though Stiles enjoyed the comic book variety more, Derek loved the idea of superheroes, even going as far as to recommend one of his favorite books,  _ Ex-Heroes _ , because he was sure Stiles would love superheroes amidst a post-apocalyptic setting.

Time flew, and before they knew it, the owner, Eugene, was tapping Derek on the shoulder to let him know he needed to close up shop. Once outside, Stiles stopped in front of his jeep. “This is going to be a really fun project, Derek. I’m really excited to work with you.”

“Me too, I mean to work with you. Are you free Saturday? I need to buy you a coffee to pay you back, and that would give me some time to write some of the story.”

“Absolutely. See you then, how does 11:00 sound?”

Derek gave him a little smile and then walked towards his motorcycle. Saturday could not come soon enough.

  
  


***

 

By the time Stiles arrived at Sir Lancellate’s on Saturday, Derek had already claimed one of the round tables and was hard at work, scribbling away in a black and white composition book. Of course the guy would prefer pen and paper to technology. Also to his surprise was the second cup of coffee and muffin sitting in front of the empty chair.

“Hi, sorry I’m a little late. My Jeep broke down, so I had to take the bus.”

“No worries. I got here early anyway.” Derek slid his book over to him while Stiles fired up his tablet. “So this is what I have so far.”

Stiles took the book and began to read, shocked by just how much Derek had already written. He felt like a jerk, because he hadn’t had time to do any of his part in the last couple days. “Wow, Derek. This is good. Really good.” He looked up to see the soft rose flush across his cheeks. “Do you write anything else?”

Derek shrugged. “Mostly just stories. I want to be a writer, but my mom says I need to focus on a more stable career.”

“Parents,” Stiles scoffed, “always taking the fun out of it.” He started to hand the notebook back to him, but Derek stopped him.

“I have a second one with me. I figure you need something to reference for your panels right?” He looked down at his fingers. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Sure.” Where was he going with this?  _ Stiles, he’s going to tell you that you suck as a person and after this project is over, he never wants to see your freckly face again _ _. _ Stiles bit his tongue, trying to trick his brain out of its negative thinking. It was only moderately successful.

“I think our project is going to be awesome, and I’m really glad I get to work with you.”

What? That was not what Stiles had been expecting him to say. “Really? Why? I’m just Stiles. I’m horribly annoying. I talk way too much and have a tendency to knock over my beverages. Ask anyone, and they’ll tell you the same thing.”

“I don’t think that’s true. I mean, yeah, you do talk a lot, but it’s nice.”

Stiles was fairly certain his eyes bugged out of his head. 

“Just sometimes, I’d catch you looking at me, and not the way the other kids at school do. They look at me like they’re afraid I’m gonna pull a knife on them or something.”

His mouth felt like the Sahara. “And how do I look at you?”

“Like I’m a puzzle you want to solve. I know what I look like and how I dress.” He pulled on his leather jacket. “This was my dad’s. So was the motorcycle. After he died, I just,” Stiles watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, “it let me feel like he was still around. I know your mom died a while ago, and I thought you’d understand how I felt. I don’t really have a lot of friends. My mom says I have a hard time connecting with people. I never know what to say. But I promise, I’m not scary, and I don’t go around shanking people and then drive away on my Harley. I work at the library. I tutor little kids in reading.”

Stiles rested his chin on his hands, hiding his shy smile behind his curled fingers. “You tutor little kids? That is… the cutest thing ever. My Jeep, that was my mom’s, too.” Derek stared at him, eyes unblinking, and for a minute Stiles was sure he’d screwed things up.

“You think I’m cute?”

Backtracking, Stiles covered his eyes so he couldn’t see what was sure to be the look of rejection on Derek’s face, and began to ramble. “Well, yeah. I mean in a totally objectively cute kind of way. Not in an 'I want to take you on so many dates and hold your hand' sort of way, because I mean, I don’t even know if you are into guys, and I would hate to make you uncomfortable. I can totally keep my pathetic crush under wraps, and you know we can forget I am totally gone on you unless, I mean and this is totally up to you, you might sort of want me to think you’re cute in the dating and hand holding sort of way, and if that’s the case I am so totally on board with that plan and I think we should go on a real date sort of thing.”

There was a beat of silence, and Stiles couldn’t tell if Derek had shut down on him or was just waiting to see if Stiles had more verbal vomit to spew at him. Then, he took a little, but sharp intake of breath. “I...think...you’re cute when you ramble,” he said with tiny smile. “And I’d like that hand holding, date sort of thing.”

_Derek Hale likes me? Holy shit! Wait...DEREK LIKES ME! HE THINKS I’M CUTE! Error, brain overload! Too much excitement. Error! Error!_  He took a deep breath, well a shaky breath at least, as he tried to reel in his emotions. Unable to stop himself, Stiles giggled. “Okay, that’s fantastic, awesome, really, really great.” 

Derek pointed to his tablet. “You draw on that?” he asked moving to sit beside him. 

Okay. Stiles was a professional, sort of, and he could conduct himself in a civil manner. Even though he could practically feel the heat of Derek’s leg from how close it was to Stiles’ now, he took a deep breath. “Yeah. I got this for Christmas last year. My dad said it was better than me leaving my drawings all around the house, and I do mean everywhere. He got tired of them cluttering up the kitchen counters, tables, you name it. This way I just choose what to print.”

“Can I watch you draw for a little bit?”

Suddenly self-conscious, Stiles wanted to say no, that he never let anyone see his drawings before they were done, but Derek interrupted his thoughts.

“I like your hands. They’re interesting in the way they have little imperfections, are too big for your body, fingers too long, but still beautiful.”

It was Stiles’ turn to blush, and all he could manage in response was a nervous chuckle, but still, he gave in and let Derek watch. He finished the first panel and moved the tablet over so Derek could see.

“That looks great. Ours is going to be the best.” They settled into a comfortable silence, Derek writing and passing the pages over to Stiles to incorporate into his panels. Occasionally, one of them would speak, and usually the conversation turned to their shared losses. It was odd, Stiles thought, because he hadn’t even told Scott some of this stuff about his mom, and the way it felt to watch her waste away. Derek, though, he seemed to get it, more than Stiles would have liked him to.

“Sometimes, I can hear my mom start talking to him as if he’s still around, before she stops herself. It’s almost as if she thinks no one hears her, but my bedroom is next to my parents’... well next to her room. She cries a lot.”

Stiles reached out and patted Derek’s hand. “My dad still says goodnight to my mom, and it’s been eight years. We never talk about her though. Never. I can’t even remember the last time we said-” he stopped himself before he could start crying and straightened his posture as he changed topic. “What is your favorite song?”

Derek smirked, a most beautiful sight if you asked Stiles. “ACDC’s ‘Back in Black’.”

“Dad’s favorite?”

“Yeah. We used to sing it together in the car when it came on. Yours?”

“Rubik’s Cube’. You ever have a song that you swear was written about you? Yep, that’s mine.”

“Yeah. I have one of those, but it’s not my favorite. It just makes me sad.”

_ Okay… enough of sad stuff. Time for a joke _ _. _ “A man woke up in the hospital after a serious accident. He shouted, ‘Doctor, I can’t feel my legs!’ to which the doctor replied, ‘I know you can’t; I’ve cut off your arms.’” He looked over to see Derek shake his head, laughing.

“That is terrible.”

“It’s not. It’s puntactular.”

Derek’s shoulders shook as he burst into laughter, quiet laughter, but he was laughing nonetheless. “Reading in the sun makes you well, red.”

“Ah. No one can resist following up one bad pun with another. Statistical fact.”

They settled back into their project, and it seemed as though they’d only been there an hour when he looked up to see the last rays of sunlight fading in the sky. He didn’t say anything about it, but Derek’s chair had definitely scooted closer over the course of the day.

He didn’t mind.

 

***

 

Derek, the surprising gentleman that he was, offered to give Stiles a ride home so that he didn’t need to take the bus, even gave up his helmet to him. The whole ride home, Stiles, with his arms wrapped tightly around Derek’s waist, wore the biggest smile behind the visor.

He pulled to a stop in the Stilinski’s driveway, and Stiles expected a little wave before he drove off, but Derek climbed off the bike and walked him to the door. Did people still do that? Hell if Stiles knew. He’d been on exactly one date before.

Stopping at the bottom of the front steps, Derek looked down at his feet and mumbled something.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“I was, I was wondering if I could...kiss you.”

Stiles covered his mouth to hide his smile and nodded emphatically. When Derek leaned forward, Stiles couldn’t say he knew what to expect, but a tentative press of gentle lips against his was not it. He whimpered as Derek pulled away, longing to chase the sensation.

“See you tomorrow at school,” he whispered before walking away, backwards towards his bike. Stiles totally did not laugh when Derek tripped over the planter at the end of the walkway, absolutely did not.

 

***

  
  


A week later, as he looked over the last page in their project, Stiles grinned. “This is really awesome. I’m proud of us, dude.” He held up his hand, waiting for a high-five. “Come on...don’t leave me hanging.” Instead of giving his palm a clap, Derek pressed his hand against Stiles’ and curled their fingers together. Stiles averted his eyes, cheeks turning as red as a blushing Disney Princess’. “So...um… yeah.... this is good.”

Derek stood beside him, leaning in to read one of the captions on a panel. “You have a typo here. You spelled conscious instead of conscience,” he said, pointing to the screen.

“Where?” 

“Right here.” 

Stiles leaned in so he could see the writing. Just then, the wheels on the chair rolled out, bumping into Derek’s leg hard enough to send him off balance, and he fell into Stiles’ lap. Clearly embarrassed, he tried to stand, but Stiles placed his hands on his hips and held him in place. He looked down at him, and for a second, Stiles wondered if he’d crossed a line. “Is this o-”

His words were cut off by Derek’s lips upon his own. Firm yet hungry, the kiss drew a sound of surprise from Stiles’ throat. That first tentative kiss on his front porch had been followed up with many more nervous ones, in that way that two people did when trying to feel each other out...before they felt each other up.  _ Ha! You’re a very funny guy, Stiles _ .

This, now this was far different, vastly different, a whole other universe type of different. And it was amazing. Greedy for more, Stiles moved his hands from Derek’s hips to his back, pulling his body tighter against him, and he was silently celebrating the fact his computer chair did not have armrests. There was no way this would be at all comfortable otherwise.. 

When Derek began to kiss, nip and suck at his neck, right below his ear and the hinge of his jaw, Stiles couldn’t help himself. His head lolled back, exposing the pale column of his throat like an invitation. The thought that he might have a hickey there later was so far from his mind at that point. All he knew was that this was the single greatest moment of his life so far, and more, he definitely wanted more.

So distracted by the marks Derek was surely leaving on his neck, he hadn’t even noticed when he’d moved his hands into Derek’s hair. So when his fingers curled in the dark strands, giving them a little tug, he was just as surprised as Derek was if the little whimper the action received was any indication. 

Derek moved back to his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip. Stiles pulled on his hair again, and this time, Derek’s hips rolled forwards, almost on their own accord.  _ Oh dear God _ . “Do that again,” he mumbled against Derek’s lips.

Instead, Derek stumbled as he tried to stand, and Stiles thought for sure he’d changed his mind about Stiles, but a strong yank on his arm, pulling him to his feet convinced him otherwise. They tumbled onto Stiles’ bed, a tangled mess of limbs and grinding hips.

The room filled with the sounds of pleasure and the occasional ‘oh fuck’.

They were wearing too much clothing. Definitely too much. After being with so many other people, surely that’s where Derek wanted this to go, and Stiles found himself suddenly self-conscious. He didn’t want to be just another notch on Derek’s belt. But his body had a mind of its own, and he went for the hem of Derek’s shirt.

To his utmost surprise, Derek stilled, catching his wrist to stop him. “Don’t. I...I haven’t ever- Too fast for me. Okay?”

What? Stiles could hardly handle giant secret marshmallow Derek. Inexperienced virgin Derek was almost enough to break his brain. Was the guy trying to kill him?

“You haven’t? Me neither. This, this is good. Let’s just keep doing this.”

When Derek’s expression of discomfort faded away into a near blinding smile, Stiles lost it, rolling on top of him; his hands landed on either side of Derek’s head when he tipped forward so he could kiss him senseless.

Everything after that became a bit of a blur as they moved against one another until Stiles fell apart, coming with a stream of unintelligible syllables and stuttering hips. By the time he collapsed on him, Derek looked like he was about to die if he didn’t come soon. Stiles took care of that with a fluid and firm roll of his hips.

Some people were naturally blessed with one hell of an ‘O’ face, and Stiles preened that he’d been the one to make Derek look like that.

After they came back to their senses, Stiles’ brain almost short circuited again when Derek curled into his side, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” Stiles was definitely in agreement with whatever Derek had been trying to say.

“I don’t want to move. I think my legs are jelly right now.”

Stiles let out a tiny pleased chuckle. “I know, but the print shop closes soon. We should get cleaned up so we can drop off our project in time.”

With a pout, Derek climbed off the bed and dug his sweatpants out of his gym bag before disappearing into the bathroom, while Stiles just lay there in bed thanking whatever deity or universal force responsible for Derek.

  
  


***

 

They presented two days later to an enthusiastic class and even more impressed teacher, but if someone were to ask him, Stiles was far more excited for his and Derek’s first date later that night. If the shy smile and soft pink tinge to Derek’s cheeks were anything to go by, so was he.

There would be no trampling on hearts of any kind.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> come visit me on [ Tumblr](http://captaintinymite.tumblr.com/)


End file.
